(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({ google_ad_client: "ca-pub-1163816206856645", enable_page_level_ads: true }); Northview Diary: Fog

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Fog

Goldfinch gleaning the rudbeckia

I am thankful for it. Each clear, cold evening threatens frost, but mornings are shrouded like unused furniture in a forgotten tower room, blanketed in insulating moisture, saving plants and crops.

At predawn Daisy-walking time, the tame turkeys in their turkey tractor crouch low and slink along like their wild cousins, and chuckle and chortle softly to themselves.

New chickies the kids got the other day

Come sunup they will gobble and purr quite happily, but  they are nervous of things that go bump in the night. With the faint odor of skunk that floats on the breeze I don't think I blame them. 

When Ren barks they call right back at her, which makes for a silly symphony out there on the back lawn.

Yesterday was another soup day, Italian Sausage again. The tomatoes are getting ahead of me and soup makes a fine swan song for them, plus making good use of the odds and ends of beans and squash still being produced as long as frost holds off. I processed a couple of bags of sauce for the freezer too.


The boss made hay, great walloping big bales of second cutting, with more to go today if all goes well. Now he just has to sell it.

If I get the Farm Side finished and sent and all goes well, we may go pick some corn that one of our friends has offered. Anything in the freezer for winter is welcome!

3 comments:

Cathy said...

Your life. Rich beyond dreaming. All that . . . and . . the ability to limn it so beautifully.

Terry and Linda said...

I so know that sing-song yelping that the dogs and coyotes do....

Linda
http://coloradofarmlife.wordpress.com

threecollie said...

Cathy, oddly, blogging about it has made me notice and appreciate more. I SEE more. And thanks

Linda, it is hilarious when it is a turkey and a dog! They are coming into adulthood now and not sure quite what to do about it. lol